Limping Up the Stairs
by Aurora Magician
Summary: CHAP7 NOW UP. The team is back after a cooldown. Brian's had an accident, his stepsister returns and opens the fam pub. She starts to drag Bri out of his depression, when they see the Team at the pub! nonms, very original! promise!
1. Default Chapter

            DISCLAIMER: I own nada as far as TFATF is concerned.  I only own Gatewood House, and any chars not in the movie.  If you want to sue me, go right ahead: I'm broke, ya won't get a CENT.

            AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you very much for reading this!  BTW... to avoid some confusion: in my story, Brian had a bad accident a while after the end of the movie.  I won't say anything more!

Dominic Toretto hated check-out lines, especially at the grocery store.  He shifted his weight from foot to foot, trying not to lose his patience with the fat lady in front of him.  She seemed to be taking up the entire aisle, and to top it all off, she only had a gallon of milk in her chubby hand while he and Vince had two shopping carts full to the hilt.  He hated check-out lines.

            Vince shifted impatiently beside him as well, and the two exchanged frustrated looks.  There was a slight rustle behind them as some other poor unfortunate got in line, followed by an exasperated sigh as they realized what a wait they were in for.  A musky, sexy scent drifted under their noses, mixed with a distinctly lower note of smoke.  Vince and Dom looked at each other, then behind them.  

            It was a woman, with her red hair pulled back haphazardly and a complexion that made both of them wonder if she was sick.  She wore black sunglasses, and couldn't have been much taller than five-two.  Not really worth a second look.  Dom ignored her and turned his attention to the endless line ahead of them.  Vince followed his example.  

            There was a tap on Dom's shoulder.  He turned around to look at the red-head.  She pointed to a check-out counter that looked almost ready to open up.  Nobody else had noticed it.  She motioned for them to follow.  Dom smiled at her.  He and Vince followed her inconspicuously to the other counter, and left the grocery store before the fat lady was even  half-way to her counter.  

            As they left the store parking lot, they stopped to let the redhead cross.  Waving to her, they pulled out at break-neck speed and were gone.  

            "What took you guys so long?" Mia yelled at them as they walked into the kitchen laden with groceries.  Dom and Vince groaned.

            "Do you have any idea how much I _hate_ check-out lines?" Dom asked her.  Mia rolled her eyes and started to put the food away.

            "If it hadn't been for that redheaded chick, we might still be there," Vince added.

            "She pointed out a counter that was just opening up.  Nobody else noticed," Dom finished as he brought in the last of the groceries on the floor, as there was no room on the counter.  

            "Dinner will be ready in half an hour.  You boys go wash up," Mia instructed, turning back to cooking.  Vince and Dom exchanged amused smiles behind her back, and sheepishly wandered upstairs.

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            Sarah irritably jammed a stray lock of her red hair behind her ear as she turned her black car into the parking lot of Gatewood House, noticing who was in and who was out.  She got all of the groceries in one trip, despite the horribly slow check-out lines.  Thank God she had noticed that other check-out counter before anyone else had!  She hated check-out lines with a vengeance, as, apparently, so had the two guys in front of her.  She unloaded the car in five minutes, and was re-stocking the fridge when her sister Moira waddled downstairs.  

            "Morning sickness still a problem?" Sarah asked the pregnant woman, not glancing up from inside of the fridge.

            "Yeah," Moira replied, her voice thick with exhaustion, "I just got over the worst of it when you left."  Sarah nodded, closing the fridge door.  She opened a bag she'd left on the counter, and took out several jars of herbs.

            "Pot," Sarah asked, turning to the counter.  Moira waddled over with the requested cooking utensil and sat down heavily at the table.  Sarah nodded her thanks, and went about brewing tea for Moira.  

            "I'm okay for dinner, you know.  What would y—"

            "I'm making dinner," Sarah stated firmly.  Moira shut her mouth, knowing it would be useless to argue.  She sighed, also knowing the storm that was about to break.

            "O'Connor?" Sarah inquired, her voice carefully casual, yet hinting at a threat that was not directed towards Moira.  Her sister flinched, knowing Sarah's back was turned.

            "Brian's...in his room," she said quietly.  She winced when Sarah abruptly slammed the bowl she'd been mixing a marinade in down on the counter with more force than necessary.  

            Sarah took the back spiral staircase up to the second floor of Gatewood House.  She marched down the hallway and stopped at the third door on the left, and knocked once.  She counted to ten mentally, trying to calm down.  It didn't work.  _It never does_, she thought with detached and bitter amusement.  _Enough_...  She kicked the door open, surprised that her erstwhile step-brother hadn't locked it this time.  _He's really given up, the jerk.  Well... NOT if I can help it!_

            "Up!" she commanded sharply as she pulled the sheets off of her step-brother.  He exclaimed in protest, but she threw the sheets across the room.  He lunged after them.  She stopped him by yanking on his hair, ignoring his yowls of pain.  

            "Up!" she growled through set teeth.  He blinked resentfully at her.  Sarah whipped around and opened the curtains and shades he had been careful to keep closed for months now.

            He hadn't meant for it to be months.  It had just happened.  At first, he just kept them closed and curled up in his room at the end of the day.  Then, it had been harder and harder to get up in the morning.  Finally, this past two weeks, he had just stopped even getting out of bed.  Brian wondered if Sarah knew how long it had been.  He decided he didn't care if murder was against the law when the sunlight he'd shut out pierced his eyes... he was just plain going to kill his step-sister.  

            "**Up, O'Connor, and don't make me repeat myself," Sarah set in a low voice, her tone unchanged, hands on her ample hips.  **

            "Why?" Brian retorted sulkily.  He realized his mistake when Sarah's mouth tightened.  There was no way on Earth he could have dodged the strike she aimed at his head.  He reeled back against the headboard.

            She walked out of the room.  

            "I'll **carry** you down if you're not downstairs in ten minutes."

            _Goddamn step-sisters to hell!_ Brian thought with the first hint of feeling he'd had in months.  He resented her for that. 

//////////////////////////////

            Vince was not in a good mood.  

            To start the evening, Mia had made a terrible dinner.  Which wasn't unusual... he was used to it by now... it's just that it had started the evening.  What made it worse was the VCR finally deciding to quit in a shower of sparks, subsequently frying the DVD player as well.  And there was NOTHING on TV... he'd checked every channel twice.  And Letty was DEFINATELY on the rag, making her bitchier than normal.  _Just can't fucking win_, Vince thought bitterly.  He was finishing off the evening watching Mia pretend she wasn't thinking about the Buster.  

            Vince was not in a good mood.

            "I'm going to bed," he announced finally.  _Screw this shit_, he thought.

            "'Night, dawg," Leon called without looking up from his ministrations on the VCR, trying to coax it back to life.  

            "Goodnight, V," Mia offered softly, looking out the window.  Vince felt his stomach give a wrench at her painfully distracted tone.  Dom noticed, nodding his understanding and goodnight.  Letty remained sullenly silent, preferring to flick through the channels while reading a car magazine.  Vince plodded up the stairs alone.

            "Hey, coyote!" Leon called up after him, "Think you can help on the Mazda tomorrow?  There's an engine and filter problem I need your help on!"

            "Sure, dawg!" Vince called over his shoulder.  He'd been dying to get a look under the Mazda's hood, but had been too busy with a Honda he'd been repairing and helping Dom remodel the basement.  NOW, however, he'd get a glance at what the new gal had under her skirts!  

            _Oh, baby_, he thought with relish, _the night may have sucked ass, but that car is something.  Mm-mm, we'll see if she'll sing for me tomorrow!_  

            Vince fell asleep half an hour later, in a much lighter mood.

////////////////////////

            Sarah played a classic rock station as she served dinner.  Brian sulkily hobbled downstairs with his cane without further threat of house-hold humiliation.  Everyone treated his appearance as a normal occurrence, praying that Sarah's latest homecoming could jolt him from his depression.  Brian carefully avoided all conversation, glaring at Sarah at odd moments.

            "I'm opening the old pub back up," Sarah announced with no ceremony.  A stunned but happy silence descended, but was quickly filled when it was obvious she wasn't saying anything more.  

Brian gave her an odd, questioning look before turning back to the first decent meal he'd eaten in months.  True, he'd been forced to eat it under threat of being "volunteered" to babysit the kids for a whole week... but hey, the chicken was pretty good, and so were the dill potatoes.  So what if he wasn't allowed to drink wine due to the painkillers he used for his leg... he didn't care.

He'd stopped caring too much when he'd betrayed the team.  Mia... _NO!  __Don't think about her!_ he screamed at himself mentally.  He'd stopped caring altogether when he'd hurt his leg in his... accident.  They'd given him painkillers—strong ones—but they only dulled the pain to a constant ache.  The only thing he'd cared about then was that it was a damn shame he couldn't drink alcohol and get thoroughly drunk.  But now... now he just stared at the ceiling all day, waking at odd moments at night, and doing the same thing.  Trying not to see _her_ picture there.

Then Sarah had come home.  And dammit, there went his chance to end it all quietly and painlessly.

////////////////////////

            Dominic settled into bed beside Letty, who turned away from him in her sleep.  It was late... getting up later this morning was going to be a bitch.  Well... Letty was the bitch right now, seeing as she was on the rag, so waking up later on was going to be... fucking sucky.

            He sighed as Letty rolled over and flopped an arm over him, unintentionally hitting him in the face.  Carefully, so as not to wake her, he moved the offending appendage down to his chest.  She stirred slightly, but stilled when the breeze came through the open window.  Dominic watched the moon as he felt himself getting sleepy.

            He dreaded tomorrow... _Well, more like today, seeing as it's almost three in the fucking morning_, he thought.  Today... today was the day he'd first met Brian O'Connor.  

            He wondered if anyone besides Mia remembered.  They probably would, if reminded, but had pushed thoughts of the friend-who-wasn't out of their heads as soon as possible.  Brian had caused too much pain to warrant thinking about then.  The team had needed to move on with their lives without him... needed to heal themselves and become a team again.  Dominic thought about all that Brian had missed in the past year.  

            Including Mia's birthday.  THAT had hurt; even Letty and Vince had to admit that.  Sure, they were grateful that they were all there—Jesse had, by some grace of God, survived the shooting—but Brian was in the back of everyone's mind that day.  The others had wanted to throw her a big bash, to try and take her mind off of not having the Buster there... but Dom had convinced them to make do with the simple dinner-out Mia had mentioned she'd wanted.  It had been a quiet affair, even if practically every friend they'd had stopped by that day and the next to drop off random presents.  Everyone, that is, except Brian.  And Dominic could tell that had hurt Mia.

            It hurt him too, though he would never admit to it.  Brian had betrayed them.  He may not have wanted to in the end, but it had happened.  Sure, he'd made sure Dom got away, regardless of the consequences... but still, when the team had returned to America after a few months of letting things calm down... still, Brian had been on Mia's mind.  And so, consequentially (he was beginning to HATE that word), on Dom's mind. 

            _I wonder what Officer Brian O'Connor is doing now_, he thought as he finally drifted off to sleep.

//////////////////////////

            Sarah knocked on Brian's door.  He'd disappeared after dinner, and she didn't like that.  She was about to give the door a good bang when it opened.  She blinked once.

            "You're helping me clean the pub tomorrow," she informed him calmly, "We open in two days."  

            He closed the door in her face.  She sighed, deciding it wasn't worth it to break it down again and repeat what she'd said.  She'd meant every word of it: Brian was helping her, and that was that.  She'd just carry him there if he tried to get out of it.  _That  reminds__ me... I need to wean him off those damn painkillers soon_, she thought with a touch of sympathy.  She'd been on those pills before, and coming off them had given her nasty nightmares.  

            She reached the third floor via the back spiral staircase.  Her room was the first door on the right from there, and she would never admit how glad she was to see it right then.  Nor would she admit to how tired she actually was.  Closing and bolting the heavy dark wood door, she tossed the key on the dresser and began stripping.  Once completely naked, she caught a glimpse of herself in the dresser mirror as she crossed the room to her bathroom.  She stopped, suddenly aware of how pale she was after staying in Maine for so long.  _Ignore Maine_, she told herself, _get the damn bath and go to sleep._  

            She took a quick hot bath, keeping the water shallow.  Her hair she'd wash in the morning, when she took a shower.  Right now, she just needed the heat to release the day's tensions.  Indulging in a lavender soap, she concentrated on breathing and bathing.  

            Lying on the bed at last, she decided against cloths.  If it was one thing about living in Gatewood House with SO many family members, it was that modesty counted for shit.  She could walk downstairs in the morning wearing bra and panties, and nobody would blink an eye.  The kids didn't care; they were too young to even know about such things.  And the teenagers had grown up with it, so it didn't bother them.  Sarah pulled clean, white cotton sheets over her body, reveling in the sensation of bare skin on the fabric.  She thought about the Gatewood House adolescents.

            Abby was just a toddler, turning three in a couple of weeks.  Logan was eight, and Liana was five.  Jack was... _Oh, he turned one last week_, Sarah remembered.  She allowed herself a small smile.  The twins, Angelo and Sophia, they were nine.  _Mica's almost nineteen_, she thought to herself with a chuckle, _and Vincent is thirteen, with Shelley being eighteen_.  Every last one of them was an O'Connor, except Moira's baby, who would be an O'Dell; and Jack and Abigail, who were Bella's wards.  Angelo, Sophia, and Vincent were Jameson's kids.  _I wonder how Brian's twin is doing?  I didn't see him at dinner_, Sarah thought to herself as she drifted into sleep thinking drearily of family.

            She dreamed vaguely about singing a lullaby to a baby of her own, and woke up around three in the morning not remembering it.  She went back to sleep, dreamless. 

///////////////////////////

            Vince got up to the annoying buzzing of his alarm clock across the room.  Groaning, he threw off the covers, and crossed the room.  On the way, he tripped over his shoes and cloths.  By the time he made it to the other side, he was completely awake.  He shut the buzzing off with a slap of his hand, and went downstairs to have his first cup of coffee.  

            Once in the kitchen, he discovered he was the first one up.  Sighing, he thanked God for timers on coffee-makers, and poured himself a mug full.  He sipped the hot, bitter liquid with relish, draining it in three gulps.  He headed back upstairs for a shower, grateful that Mia hadn't decided to get up early and make everyone breakfast.  If she had, not only would he have been unable to just grab a donugt and run, he would've had to wait another fifteen minutes to get into the bathroom.  _That is IF Letty or __Leon__ hadn't gotten there first_, Vince thought grumpily.  

            He took a shower in water that would have been cool to other people, which suited Vince just fine.  He groaned when he realized that Mia had bought the shampoo this time... it was apple-scented.  _Great,_ he thought viciously, _When I hit on a chick I can smell like another woman... like a goddamn orchard, for Christ's sake!_  At least he won out in the soap department.  Ivory suited him just fine, thank you very much.

            He was out in ten minutes, and was heading back downstairs to finish his breakfast, when he almost collided with a groggy Mia just coming out of her room.  _It's funny how the Buster pretty much cured me of wanting to screw her_, he thought without meaning to.  Mia mumbled something that resembled an apology in sleep-talk, and stumbled towards the bathroom.  Vince was just grateful that she couldn't hear his thoughts... she'd been thinking of HIM far too much lately.  _She needs to get laid_, he thought, shaking his head.

            Dom had made it downstairs before Vince had returned from his shower, and greeted him with a raised coffee mug.  Vince nodded his head, pouring himself another mug and grabbing a donugt.  Both men munched in silence.  Vince figured when Dom wanted to talk about what was on his mind, he would.  _And damn if he ain't figuring something right now_, Vince thought curiously, _judging by his face, he ain't too happy about it either._

///////////////////////////

            Sarah knocked calmly on Brian's door.  It was morning, and he needed to get up and get his ass moving if he was going to help her with the pub.  _And Goddammit, he IS, I don't care what he fucking thinks,_ she thought.  She knocked again, and heard the sheets on his bed rustle.  She waited... still no answer.

            She tried the knob, and it turned freely in her hand.  _You asked for it, dumb-ass,_ she thought half with resignation, half with anger at her step-brother's self-pity.  Throwing open the door with a loud bang, she entered the room and yanked off the sheets.  Brian protested groggily, pretending to go back to sleep.  Sarah narrowed her eyes.

            "Alrighty then," she said, and opened his bathroom door.  She picked Brian up, carried him into the bathroom, and threw him in the shower stall.  He opened his eyes and would have said something offensive to her...

            Except Sarah had turned the shower on full-force, using VERY cold water.  She stood with her hands on her hips, unsmiling, watching her step-brother yelp in surprise and lunge to turn the water off.  He sat sullenly in the shower stall, shivering and dripping, not meeting her gaze.

            "Get another shower," she ordered, ignoring his hot glare, "And then come down for breakfast.  Move it, O'Connor."  She left him there, and went downstairs, stopping in the children's rooms to check and see if they were awake.  Jack, the one-year-old, was awake in his crib.  His sister Abigail was still sound asleep and sucking her thumb.  Sarah changed Jack's diaper before putting him back in his crib and heading downstairs again.  

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Not going to continue unless there is feedback.  I mean it... even if you hate it, please Review!  I can stand flames... I've got a flame-proof suit on lol.  Thank you for reading this!  Any questions or what have you, send them to me!  ace_bluefire@hotmail.com                


	2. Sitting Up

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            DISCLAIMER: I own nada of TFATF... I only own Gatewood House and those chars that are not in the movie.  Please don't sue me... I am very much broke!  

            AUTHOR'S NOTE: Don't forget, Brian's had an accident in this fic.  THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!!  Please do not forget to REVIEW!  :)  Thank you very much.  And also... what do you think about Brian knowing how to play guitar?  LET ME KNOW!

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            Sarah had coffee made and was scraping scrambled eggs onto two plates when Brian hobbled down the stairs, his blonde curls wet and shining.  He still had his pajama pants on, and hadn't bothered with a shirt.  He glared at her and sat down at the small kitchen table, not saying anything.  The toaster popped, making him jump with alarm.  His eyes darted around the kitchen for a few seconds before he realized that it was the toaster, and not gunshots.  

            Sarah carefully kept her back to Brian.  She added the bagels and some cheese to the plates, and grabbed two mugs from the counter before turning around and setting them on the table.  She kept her face neutral, and ate breakfast quickly.  Brian picked at his food, not touching his coffee.  Sarah began to read the paper.

            "Eat," she told him without looking up.  Brian ignored her, pushing his food around on his plate.  The sound of the fork scraping the plate grated on Sarah's nerves.  She grabbed the end of the fork, effectively stopping Brian, and met his hot gaze calmly and coolly.  

            "**Eat," she told him forcefully, gripping the hand that was holding the fork.  She let go, and returned to her meal.  She listened as Brian stopped pushing his food around.  Sarah gulped the rest of her coffee, finished breakfast, and deposited her dishes in the sink.  She turned around, and regarded Brian with his full plate of food with an icy chill.  _Why does he always have to push my limits?_  She thought to herself angrily.  _Alright, O'Connor; you asked for it!_**

            Sarah marched over to the cupboards, completely ignored by Brian, and whisked out the duct tape.  A quick thirty seconds later, and she had former officer Brian O'Connor duct taped in his kitchen chair.  _Wanna play rough, we'll play rough.  It's your own damn fault, O'Connor.  You can't wallow in self-pity forever, and you can't let yourself die because some racing slut followed her dipshit brother to __Mexico__ and an accident ruined your leg!  Though she was yelling with frustration in her head, Sarah kept her mouth firmly shut in a thin line.  She stood in front of Brian, forcing his head back with one hand and shoving food in his mouth with the other.  _

            Brian was taken aback and getting angrier by the second.  He nearly choked on the food Sarah forced into his mouth.  _Can't she just let me fucking DIE?!_  He screamed in his head.  He tried to scream and argue with her, but every time he opened his mouth, Sarah stuffed food into his mouth.  He pulled his head out of her grasp, and spit the food out.  Sarah smacked his head before grabbing a towel to clean up the mess.

            "Goddammit, can't you just leave me fucking ALONE?!" Brian yelled at her, "I was fine before you came back!  I WAS FINE!!"

            "Yeah, you're so **fine** that you're letting your self-pity take over your life, and damn near killing yourself in the process!" Sarah snapped at him, "Oh, yeah, O'Connor, your life was great before I came back.  Don't feed me that kind of bullshit, and don't feed yourself that either."

            "Leave me the fuck alone!  Untie me, Goddammit!"

            "Nope," she said casually, as if she was enjoying his hurt, "Not going to happen.  Unless you eat, that is."

            Brian shut his mouth with a click.  It was useless arguing with this step-sister on anything.  Once she made up her mind that was it.  There was nothing that could change it.  And he hated her for it.               

                  Sarah stood with her hands on her hips.  She felt her emotions boiling out of control.  She took a deep breath to calm down, feeling her muscles tense up instead.  

////////////////////////////////////

            Vince raised his head from under the hood of the Honda he was working on when he heard his name being called.  But the music was up too high; he couldn't hear what Mia was saying.  

            "What?" he yelled.

            "THEN TURN THE GODDAMN MUSIC OFF!" Mia screamed, her face turning red.  Vince winced; he hadn't mean to do that to her.  He sheepishly and obediently went over to the stereo and turned it WAY down.  Jesse and Leon protested, but quickly shut up and went back to work when they saw that Mia needed to talk to Vince.  A heavy metal station played in the background while the sound of clinking and working on the cars filled the garage.

            "_Thank you," Mia said meaningfully, "Come out here with me a second.  I need to talk to you."  Vince frowned as he followed Mia out of the garage.  She was waiting for him with her arms crossed, just out of sight of garage door.  _

            "What is it, Mia?" Vince asked.  He tried not to sound irritated.  He figured he succeeded when Mia didn't flinch.

            "What's up with Dom?" she asked him point-blank.  Vince shook his head.

"Don't know," he answered, "He'll say it when he's good and ready."  _Dom must really have something on his brain if Mia even noticed, he thought worriedly, __I hope he comes through soon, or he'll drive us all up the fucking wall.  And he'll be distracted at the race tomorrow night!  Damn, that means I'll have to talk to him.  Why is it always me?_

            "Vince," Mia protested angrily.  Vince sighed.

            "Yeah, yeah; alright, I'll talk to him," he conceded, throwing down his tools inside the garage.  He wiped his hands on a rag, and went to find Dom. 

            It took him nearly half an hour to figure out that Dom was working at the store.  That, combined with clogged up traffic, put Vince in a nasty mood by the time he caught up with Dom.  _This had fucking better be fucking damn good, Vince thought.  He swallowed dryly, wishing desperately for a beer.  He made a cursory nod in greeting to their new cashier girl, one of Hector's cousins who had needed a job, and grabbed a cold Corona out of the fridge behind the counter.  He quickly popped the cap, and drank a long draught before heading to the back room.  Dom appeared to be going over some financial papers, but Vince knew by the blank stare that Dom was not concentrating.  The big man looked up when Vince sat down across from him.  Vince took a swig from his bottle._

            "What up, bro?" Vince asked him, looking him in the eye.  He had gone through all this trouble on a record hot day, and Goddammit, Dom was going to give him some answers!  

            "Nothing," Dom said curtly, trying to go back to the financial papers that he should have made sense of by now.  

            "Dom, I've known you since the third grade!  And you tell me nuthin' is wrong?  Bullshit, bro, I know you better than that!" Vince was careful not to raise his voice.  His questions were enough to get Dom's temper all hot and bothered, but at least he could be careful about his tone.  At least then maybe Dom would let him live if he got angry.  Dom was looking at him now with narrowed eyes, carefully assessing him.  Vince took another swig of his Corona, keeping eye contact with Dom.  Dom finally gave in.

            "Well," Dom said, throwing down his pen and rubbing his hands over his bald head, "I figure if anyone else would understand, it ought to be you."  Vince put his beer down.  Dom folded his arms behind his head and leaned back in the booth.  

            "Today was the first day I met Brian."

            If Vince had been expecting anything, it would have been this.  But he hadn't; and still, he wasn't very surprised.  Taken aback at first, yeah, but surprised?  No.  Happy?  Not that either.

            "So have the Wiz-Kid take a crack at finding something out," he suggested, annoyed.  _Dammit, why does it always have to be the Buster that's on his mind?  He fucking betrayed us!_

            "Hey, he saved your life, V," Dom reminded him, getting annoyed at Vince's tone.  Vince inwardly winced; he hadn't wanted to make Dom feel worse.

////////////////////////////////////

            "Hey!  O'Connor!  Take out the trash, eh?  You're over-flowing it!" Sarah called out to Brian as he dumped plaster into an already over-stuffed, industrial-size trash bin.  Brian glared at her briefly, but did begin to slowly drag it outside.  Sarah brushed red hair irritably out of her eyes as she went out the other side of the pub to dump water into the alleyway.  She filled it up again from the industrial sink in the huge cleaning closet, and brought it out to the main room.  She listened to Brian's uneven steps, the tap of his cane, and the scratch of the bin being hauled awkwardly behind him.  _I don't care if he has to crawl on his hands and knees to take out the trash, she thought__, the exercise is good for him.  So is figuring out how to do stuff now that he's got that cane!  The others coddled him too much.  She heard a crash and a loud swear word.  Instantly, she was sprinting across the room and at Brian's side._

            "Let me, let me!" she said, irritated, as Brian attempted to lift the trash bin off the ground.  Brian let her, and she could feel his angry eyes on her back.  "Now help get it into the dumpster," she ordered, ignoring his hot eyes.  He did so with more force than necessary.  As soon as it was empty, he turned sharply and hobbled stiffly towards the door.  

            "I'm sorry, O'Connor," she said calmly, accepting that it was her fault that it had happened.  She watched his back as he stopped for a moment... watched his shoulders as they heaved in a sigh.  

            "Right," he said emotionlessly, and she watched him go inside.  For several seconds, she felt a deep pull at her heart.

            "I'm sorry you find it so hard to forgive, O'Connor," she said quietly, her hands clenched into white fists.  She suddenly felt very, indescribably, horribly sick to her stomach.  Ignoring it, she shook her head to clear it, and set off inside after her step-brother.  

            The dark hardwood floors of the pub were soon shining and clean, thanks to Brian's mopping efforts.  She let him rest with a glass of water for five minutes, and then set him to work finishing the bathrooms.  They had been in the process of remodeling them when she had abruptly left for Maine...  _Fuck __Maine__!  Forget about __Maine_,_ she told herself, viciously scrubbing the bar's countertop, __there is nothing left for you in __Maine__.  This is _CALIFORNIA___.  _

            With a sudden movement, she swooped down on the radio, and turned it to a classic rock station.  Blasting the volume, she threw herself into work.  She didn't even notice when Brian stood in the middle of the dance floor, watching her intently.  Internal pain was written all over both of their faces, only one aware of what they shared in that moment.  

            Brian shook himself out of his trance.  He cleared his throat when the songs switched on the radio.  Sarah started for a moment, her hand instinctively going to her hip, before she realized it was Brian.

            "The bathrooms are finished," he said crisply.  They stared each other in the eye for a few seconds, before Brian pointedly looked at the clock, and limped heavily to the exit.  Sarah checked the time on her watch with that of the clock, and cursed.

            "Fuck!" she snapped, throwing her polishing rag onto the counter and leaving several hundred glasses unclean.  _They can soak overnight, she mentally snapped, _they're going nowhere, like me.  Oh wait; I get to go home to a house full of siblings who fear me, children who don't know me, and I get to ride there with a brother who can't get over some stupid racing slut and her fuck-witted family.  Oh joy, oh joy; I can't wait.__

            Brian fell asleep on the way home.  He dreamed of finding Dom dead in a ditch somewhere, and Mia beating his back and screaming at him as he lifted Dom into Vince and Letty's arms. 

            He woke up as Sarah pulled sharply into the driveway, his leg throbbing in pain... his heart even worse.

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            AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am sooooooooooo sorry that this is so short!!!  I just figured that you wonderful, AMAZING people who reviewed might enjoy me updating.  It's not much, but I wanted to give you guys something in the meantime, as something of a thank-you to all those who read and REVIEWED.  THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH to: lulu, Tigerlily, Speedgirl, Vash-the-Great, Molly, Kristen, Dani, and liz!!!!!!!!!!!


	3. Looking Around

DISCLAIMER: I own nada of TFATF.  Ya sue me, ya get nuthin' but lint and dust-bunnies... maybe not even that, since I just cleaned my room.  

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know I've been kinda vague about Brian's accident... it's deliberate, but for a good purpose, I swear!  Hang in there with me people!  Your curiosity shall be satisfied, soon!  Oh... and how about Brian playing guitar as part of the pub's entertainment when it re-opens?  Review or email me your opinions.  Take care, y'all!  OH!  And I changed Jameson's kids around a bit: Vincent isn't his anymore; Logan is.  Vincent is Naomi's, whom you'll meet later on.  And if you're confused about Jameson, he's Brian's twin brother!

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            He could see it again, plain as day.  He didn't want to see it, but there it was.  It was happening all over again.  

            The sights came first.  They always did.

            _Careening down the exit ramp, driving like he did when he raced... trying to head off the suspect, who was leaving the scene of the crime.  He saw the blue Mercedes pull out onto the freeway, causing two other cars to swerve away.  The Mercedes bounced off the median strip and was air-born, rolling in suspension, before it landed to the ground.  It exploded.  He saw the other two cars crash into each other, and rebound from the impact.  Some part of his mind that was detached from all this noted that it was the dark green Dodge Spirit that rammed him first.  He rolled, colliding with the other car, a silver Jaguar.  They slid into the fiery remains of the blue Mercedes.  He saw windows smashed, glass in his arms, blood on his body.  He saw the flames of hell rise into his vision, finally coming to reclaim him for all the mistakes he'd made... to make him pay for his betrayal._

Sound was always next.  That was when he knew it was The Nightmare... again.  Fuck, he wanted to wake up; wake up and realize that it was all over already... that it was all in the past....WAKE UP!

            _He could hear the roar of the flames.  He'd thought it sounded so cliché before, because how can fire roar?  But it did.  The sound was an inhuman wailing, like an animal in the heat of fury.  He heard the snap and groan and screech of metal twisting and melting in the heat.  He heard police sirens like a vague background buzz in a bad connection.  He heard his own keening of pain as a cacophonous overtone to the howls of the flames.  He heard something explode, louder this time, and closer.  He heard the people in the silver Jaguar screaming and screaming and screaming... he heard his bones snapping in his body....screaming...  _

            Feelings came then; overwhelmed him with their intensity.  He could feel tears coursing down his face, and his lungs begging him for air as he sobbed.  But even feeling could not wake him up... WAKE UP GOD DAMMIT!        

            _A hot, searing knife pierced and ravaged his leg.  He felt the heated metal as it went into his leg.  A bone snapped, muscles and tendons ripped, and flesh burned.  He could feel the horrible heat of the flames, their terrible closeness to him.  And then they were upon him, burning his flesh with a vengeance only hell could spare.  His right arm was trapped though; caught under and crushed by the roof and part of the silver Jaguar.  He couldn't breathe; the fire sucked all the oxygen from around him, and he was pinned between the dashboard and his seat.  And oh God... his leg was going numb, finally... but fucking God in Heaven, his arm was in fire!  And then water... blessedly cool and copious water came.  It rained down its brand of vengeance upon the flames of Hell, telling them that they couldn't have him just yet.  And holy fuck, his head throbbed...._

            "**Well, if your head hurts, it's your own fault, ya silly ass!  Wake up!"  **

            Brian's eyes flew open at the sound of his step-sister's forceful voice.  Disoriented, he saw three of her red-haired, pale-faced personage before he managed to blink again and get his ragged breathing under control.  His body realized the fact that it was on the floor, and that he'd hit his head off the metal ledge of his bed frame.  He blinked again, and recognized that Sarah was still wearing her jeans and t-shirt from earlier.  

            "You hit your head off the ledge when ya fell outta bed," she said flatly, regarding him with an appraising look, "I heard you screaming.  Nightmare?"  Brian nodded, not trusting his voice, and hating every second of his life.  He used the bed as leverage to stand up, weaving slightly from the head rush.  He irritably brushed away Sarah's steadying hand.  

            "Go away," he muttered dully, crashing onto his bed once more, pretending to go to sleep.  He heard Sarah sigh, and could just picture her with hands on hips, head cocked to the side regarding him with an upraised eyebrow.  He listened to her leave, grateful and a little surprised that she'd chosen to leave it just like that.  His leg ached dully and distantly.  He considered getting up for another pain killer and a sleeping pill, but decided against the effort it would require.  He really didn't feel like getting out of bed at all.

///////////////////////////////////

            Vince refused to meet Dom's gaze for the rest of the night.  He knew that the team could feel the new tension between him and Dom, but Vince really didn't give a shit at that point.  He needed time to brood.

            He headed out for a drive as soon as dinner was done, avoiding Mia, who looked like she wanted to apologize for sending him after Dom.  He really didn't want her pity and apology anyway.  He was too confused; too much in turmoil.  He could feel the heat begin to rise up through him, signaling that a huge outburst was coming.  So he opened all the windows of his car, letting the night breeze streak his hair out behind him and make a mess of his beard.  

            _Why the hell did Dom have to bring up Brian O'Connor?  Vince turned the thought over and over in his head.  Every direction he took it, the thought brought up two solutions: find Brian and confront him, or forget Brian and leave it at that.  The trouble was deciding which path to take, and when he chose, deciding who to tell.  _

            Vince didn't care where he went, he just drove.  He drove through neighborhoods he knew, and some he didn't.  He wound up near Black, his favorite pub.  The name changed to suit the favorite color of every new owner, and Vince had been pissed off when it had closed.  As he approached it, though, he noticed that the dumpsters were full to almost over-flowing.  _Huh, must be going to open back up,_ he thought a little more cheerfully, _a__bout damn fucking time, too.  Wish they were already fucking open... I need a fucking drink!  He cruised past the windows obscured by newspapers, the door bolted with heavy chains and locks, the neon signs that glinted dully in the streetlight.  _

            The wind felt so damn good.  Vince had left the music off, but he turned it on now.  With the volume turned up and the beat thrumming through his system, he drove through a neighborhood he'd only been through a few times before.  It was fairly upper-middle class, and it had been his secret dream growing up as a poor kid to one day live in a neighborhood like this one.  He didn't really want to anymore, because it would mean a nine-to-five job and a career that didn't include street racing.  Racing was his life, in his blood, and he wouldn't have it any other way.          

            He passed the houses, some with lights on and others completely dark.  He remembered breaking and entering into one of them when he was a kid.  He'd stolen some diamond earrings and a TV set, and had gotten away with it too.  He'd used that money to start saving up for his first car.  _Damn, that had been a sweet car_, he thought.  He almost smiled at that thought.  He rounded a bend, and saw the strangest house he'd ever seen.

            It was a large Victorian house, and its color variations were barely distinction.  It loomed above the street like a vigilante.  What struck Vince as strange, though, was the sheer size of the house.  It was huge, with three floors, and a parking lot that looked like it belonged to a store.  And there were only a few spaces empty!  He slowed down to cruise by, trying to get a better look.

            Most of the lights in the house were off.  The only brilliance came from two big bay windows, and it spilled out onto the wrap-around porch.  Somebody was swinging alone on the porch.  He saw them take a swig from a beer bottle, and he slowed down further for a better look.  He recognized the redhead from the supermarket.  He beeped at her, and she waved enthusiastically.  

            Vince almost stopped to talk to her; for some reason, he felt drawn to the house.  But he kept his foot on the gas, and steered away from the house.  _So this is where she lives_, he thought.  He wasn't sure why that was so important to him—it wasn't like she was hot or anything.  Vince drove on, and eventually wound up back at Dom's house.  Sighing, he noticed that the living room light was still on.  Taking a deep breath, he shut off the ignition, and mentally prepared himself to face whatever Dom had to say.

////////////////////////////////////////

A/N: yeah, I know this was short.  Sorry.... I've had some recent developments in my life that have kept me distracted.  Please bear with me.... and thanks to all those who reviewed last chapter.  You guys are the BEST!  HUGS FOR ALL!!!!  


	4. Falling back

Brian was certainly NOT happy with Sarah the next day. His leg had ached all night long, and he had sought solace in the painkillers the doctor had prescribed. They'd numbed his leg nicely, and fogged his brain with a long and cloudy sleep. When he woke, it was to Sarah once again yanking the sheets off of him and pulling up the blinds. The searing light from the sun sent him diving under the pillows, and once again, Sarah thwarted his movements. One swift tug later, and she'd sent his pillows flying over his head to the other side of the room.  
"You have five minutes, O'Connor," she snapped at him, and marched out of his room. He glared at her back, and a part of his mind that had never really slept reminded him that he'd seen those jeans and shirt on her before. He shook his head to clear it, and decided that it really wasn't worth pissing Sarah off today. He clumsily hauled himself out of bed, and headed off to the bathroom to clean up a bit. He didn't feel like hearing her complain about how bad he smelled, and besides, it had been almost three days since he'd washed. Not that he cared, he thought, he was just stating the facts as he saw them.  
When Brian got into the bathroom, he closed the door and locked it. He couldn't really bathe all that well, since his leg was in a metal brace, but he could still get clean enough. While waiting for the water to warm up slightly, Brian opened the medicine cabinet to look for his toothpaste. He stared at his prescriptions, which stood in a neat little row on the bottom shelf.  
How easy, he thought, how very easy it would be. He closed the medicine cabinet, and got his shower.  
Sarah was waiting for him in the kitchen, coffee in one hand and paper in the other. She threw him a rare look of approval when she saw he'd washed and changed. Brian simmered underneath, pointedly ignoring her unsaid comments and gaze. He settled himself awkwardly in a chair, and chugged down the orange juice Sarah had already poured for him. She's also made Southwest Omelets, knowing they were his favorite. Is this an apology for yesterday, Sarah? he though bitterly. He managed a few bites for appearance's sake. He knew Sarah wouldn't be fooled, and really didn't give a fat damn either. He caught her dark and disapproving gaze, and held it.  
"You'd better eat, O'Connor," she said warningly, "It's a long time until lunch. There's lots of work to be done before then."  
Brian shrugged, and ate another bite, not feeling angry enough at her precisely to argue. He just didn't care. He felt tired, and thought longingly of his bed, the blinds down and the curtains drawn. And no bloody step-sisters to haul my ass up at ungodly hours of the morning or waking me up by dumping me in a cold shower!  
He heard Sarah sigh, and fought the urge to echo it with one of his own. Suddenly, a baby's cry pierced the seven-ack-emma silence of the house. Brian froze, while Sarah bounded up the stairs in an instant, heading to the kids' room to see what the matter was.  
I can't breath... I can't breathe can't breathe oh god oh god ohgodohgodohgod.... no more! PLEASE! NOT AGAIN! Make it stop... make the screaming go away... not again please oh god notagainNOTagainNOTAGAIN!!! WHY CAN'T I FUCKING BREATHE!  
And then suddenly, he felt something collide sharply with his head. He shook himself as his vision cleared and he found himself gulping for air. He abruptly realized that there was plenty of it. Somebody pressed a cup of something to his mouth. His vision totally cleared as he sipped the water, and discovered Sarah hovering over him with a tight expression on her face.  
"Brian!" she snapped, "Good God, Brian! Are you okay? God, boy, I didn't think that an episode would occur like that." Brian's mind cleared enough for him to swat the water away and glare at her.  
"You mean to say that you expected that something like this would happen to me!" he snapped at her. She matched him glare for glare, hers decidedly more strained.  
"You can't go through a traumatic experience and not suffer side- affects during healing," she sounded like she was quoting some stupid medical text or something. Her voice was dry and dead, with a hard undertone. Brian began to stand up, forcing her to move away. Get away from me, bitch! I don't need your pity or your help or even your fucking medical opinion! You're not a fucking doctor anyway! He burned with emotions he didn't feel he could contain.  
"Move out of my way," he bit out, "Clean the fucking bar on your own fucking self. I want no part of this." He moved to hobble upstairs, but Sarah blocked his way.  
"Tough shit, brother. You ain't gettin' outta this one that easy," she snapped. Her eyes were narrowed. Good, he wanted to make her mad. She'd forget to control herself when she got mad.  
"Move," he growled.  
"No." She said it calmly and coolly, hands on hips, head dead center and held high. They stood like that for a moment, before Brian grabbed his plate and hurled it violently at her head. He overshot it, of course; his aim was off due to his dependency on the drugs. It was dulling his senses. Sarah didn't flinch at the sound of china breaking against the wall behind her. Brian turned as fast as he could with his leg in a metal brace and a cane to support him, and hobbled angrily out the door. Sarah listened to the back door and screen door slamming shut as her step-brother left her in the kitchen. She sighed.  
Then she turned to clean up the mess. He couldn't get far with that bum leg of his.  
  
A/N: I am soooooooooooooooooooooooooo incredibly sorry that this took so long to write. My inspiration fled; then my boyfriend got in a car accident and his grandmother died, all within two weeks. I'm also rather sick right now, so the main reason this chapter finally got written is that the ONLY thing I'm really well enough to do is.... write. I hope you liked this chapter.... any suggestions? Should Vince be cruising by and see Brian? Or should they not meet until the bar opens, and BOTH Jamison and Brian are working there, creating a lot of confusion since they're identical twins? Who should be the first to see Brian? And should the gang run into Sarah one more time before that happens? LET ME KNOW! ace_bluefire@hotmail.com And make sure to use a subject heading that will let me know what you're about (i.e. "fanfiction" "The fast and the furious ff") so I don't delete you!  
  
Lots of love and peace ~ * ~ Aurora Magician. 


	5. Getting Up Again

I haven't put up the disclaimer in a while, and I don't intend to. You can visit Chappie One have a looky-see for yourself if you want. Anyway... THANKS FOR STICKING WITH ME FOR SO LONG! And thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for your infinite patience with my slow updates!

Dom woke up to a hot sticky day... and a random arm belonging to Letty thrown in his face. He glanced at Letty, who was still sleeping, and shook his head at her. He could feel the sweat already forming on their still bodies. Damn, it was gonna be another scorcher, and humid as well. Fuck.

He disentangled himself from Letty, and turned the fan up a notch. If Letty woke up too hot when she was on the rag, she was bitchier than even he could handle. He made a mental note to himself to check the books and see if they could afford central air yet. Probably not, fuck it; they'd barely made enough last month to cover a new microwave for the store.

He showered in cold water, grumbling quietly about the apple-scented shampoo one of the girls had bought. Dude, hadn't they ever heard of Ivory soap? It worked fine, dammit. He swore extensively as he began to sweat again the second he dried off.

Leon and a sleepy Jesse were guzzling coffee like it was going out of style. Dom could hear signs that Mia was stirring. There were bagels and sugary cereal on the counter. Neither Jesse nor Leon looked too aware that they were munching on whole wheat bagels and not doughnuts, which Dom took great amusement from. He poured himself the last of the strong sludge Leon tried to pass off as coffee, and started another pot that was geared more towards the women's taste. Fuck, if he didn't get out of here soon, he'd be late picking up the Mazda he'd promised to work on for Hector. And where the hell was Vince? Well hell, after all that was said last night, he didn't blame him for taking off early... or sleeping in. It had been a rough night.

Dom finished his coffee, grudgingly grabbed a bagel, smeared it with peanut butter, and headed out the door. He snatched his keys from the kitchen counter as he left, silently cursing Mia's attempts to get them all to eat healthier, and planning on picking up doughnuts on the way.

Sarah had cleaned up the mess Brian had left behind him just as people began stirring in the house. Jackie came home from her overnight shift at the drugstore, dragging grocery bags in with her. The sun shone brightly through the windows. The thermometer was steadily rising.

Sarah grabbed her keys, and muttered something to Jackie about cleaning supplies and dinner. Jackie raised her cup of strong coffee in salute, and Sarah sighed. She headed out to her truck, starting it and pulling out of the parking lot smoothly. Since Jackie hadn't brought Brian home with her, that meant he had headed west. She turned on the air conditioning, which she hated doing, and rolled up the windows. It took her ten minutes to find Brian.

He was sitting awkwardly at a bus stop, glaring at the sun. She pulled up across the street, parked, and hesitated for a second. When she looked back at Brian, he was scowling directly at her. His eyes held a hate she only too readily understood. She wished he didn't feel this way. Then she got out of the car, and crossed the street, tucking her keys into her back pocket. He looked away as she approached, and his eyes grew dim and shuttered. Sarah spotted a coffee shop close-by, and passed Brian, heading towards it. She felt his heavy gaze on her back like she felt the sun in the sky. A few minutes later, she sauntered up next to him with two coffees in her hands. A bus pulled up to the curb; people got on, people got off. She handed him a coffee with three creams and a sugar when the bus pulled away and the light turned green. They sat together, angry and frustrated. Sarah drank her black coffee with one sugar, and threw away her cup. Brian's coffee was cold. He suddenly drank it all in one gulp, handed her the cup, and clambered to his feet. Sarah tossed the cup.

They crossed the street to the truck, got in, and buckled up. Brian tensed as Sarah began to pull out too quickly into traffic, and somebody honked their horn. Sarah amiably gave them the middle finger, and finished her maneuvers. Her cell phone rang. It was Jameson.

"What's up, Jameson?" Sarah asked.

"Got any cash? Jack and Abbey are out of diapers." Sarah rolled her eyes.

"Your kids are regular crap factories. Yeah I got some. Look in the bottom vanity drawer, inside the folded black bra at the bottom. It's satin."

"You have weird ideas about where to put things, you know that?"

"Then why do you always ask for things I keep hidden?"

"I love you, sis."

"Love you too. Pay me back by next week."

"If I'm late, you can charge me interest." Jameson hung up then, and Sarah closed her cell phone. Brian was staring out the window, angry and frustrated, but dulling. Sarah gave him a concerned glance, then turned back to her driving.

I know, I know... long time, no update. I'm sorry. I really am. There probably won't be many updates for a long time. I'm trying to work two jobs to put myself through full-time college right now, hold together a two-year-long long-distance relationship, family connections that are all long-distance, friendships long-distance and local... yeah, I'm having a hard time right now. Thank you all who have requested more, and who have watched this story from it's inception. Thank you all who want more. I shall try, just for you.


	6. standing on one foot

I know, I know... long time, no update. I'm sorry. I really am. There probably won't be many updates for a long time. I'm trying to work two jobs to put myself through full-time college right now, hold together a two-year-long long-distance relationship, family connections that are all long-distance, friendships long-distance and local... yeah, I'm having a hard time right now. Thank you all who have requested more, and who have watched this story from it's inception. Thank you all who want more. I shall try, just for you.

DISCLAIMER: see chappie one.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thank you for reading my story. To those of you who are regular readers: special thanks. If I could bake worth a damn, I'd send you all cookies. I'm going to try to head the story into some more action, so please let me know if something just isn't workin' for ya.

Vince was in the shower when Dom left that morning. He had deliberately lain in bed long enough to avoid him, listening to Leon and Jessie stumble around in sleep fog, making enough noise to wake the dead. He knew the minute that Dom was up—the man could be as quiet as a fucking panther. He was the only one Vince couldn't hear walking down the hallway or shutting doors. He had known Dom was up when after an hour of silence, the shower had suddenly sprung to life, rattling the water pipes above his bed. _Someday those fuckers are gonna burst, and my room will be a fucking mess. God, just don't let it happen when I'm screwing!_ Vince thought as he lay languidly on top of his covers, already sweating, the ceiling fan providing no relief. _And when the fuck are we gonna get central AC?_

He peeled himself off the bed when he was sure Dom was out of the house. He beat Mia to the shower by minutes, making sure the water was ice-cold. God, he smelled like a fucking woman with that damned apple-orchard scented shit. Why, in the name of fucking GOD, could the women NOT understand IVORY SOAP. Was it simply not good enough for them? Was it some insistent woman thing, to make the men in their lives smell like FRUITBASKETS!

By the time he dressed he was sweaty again. He made sure he applied sunscreen—no use in getting fried and being lobster red. Girls didn't exactly find that attractive. And it made being a mechanic damned uncomfortable. He left his room, letting an irritable Letty cut in front of him so she could get to a cold shower. God knew you didn't want to piss the woman off when she was hot and on the rag. Those who did usually died horrible deaths involving lots of screaming.

Vince wolfed down a bowl of sugary cereal and a cup of coffee before heading out the door, keys in hand. He screeched out of the driveway, trying to decide how to ask Dom if they could afford Central AC yet.

Sarah immediately went back to cleaning the shot glasses when she and Brian arrived at the family pub. Brian took out a few more bags of trash. Together, they worked on getting the main floor really clean. In a matter of a few hours, they were both drenched in sweat, sore, and irritable again... but the hardwood floors gleamed, the walls were shown to actually be a warm gold underneath the grime they'd collected, and the tables and chairs were sitting in a jumble in the middle of the main room, sparkling. Sarah took a few minutes to walk out to the truck and bring back in two bottles of ice-cold water. Brian leaned on his cane, chugging the refreshing stuff, his throat constricting. Sarah took a few swigs, and went to tackle the restrooms, leaving Brian to make himself useful. He was confused when she came back into the room, a little paler than usual.

"There...th...There's a family of spiders in the men's room," she said faintly, "Could you please go and take care of them for me?" Brian felt a small pang of amusement. It was quickly gone. Without a word, he scrounged up a can of RAID, and extinguished the family of spiders in the men's room, and squashed the two he found in the ladies' room. He tossed the RAID at Sarah when he came back into the main room. She caught it just before it hit her head. She watched him carefully as he hobbled over to the bucket, scuffing it across the floor into the dance room with his foot, strongly favoring his leg.

Sarah went to the bathrooms with another bucket of strong disinfectant. She put on gloves, took up a scrub brush, and lifted her arm to start cleaning the walls. She took back her hand, staring at the wall for a moment, and tried not to cry.

Brian entered the dance room, pushing the bucket ahead of him with his foot. The room was dark, and the lights flickered a bit when he flicked the switch. He hobbled back into the bar room to grab a mop and the industrial-strength disinfectant Sarah had procured from the basement. He managed to get those into the dance room without incident. He sighed, feeling the weight of bad leg as he dragged it around. He resented that weight a lot.

He started cleaning the dance floor, a little area at a time, and quickly knew he had to revise his strategy. There was simply too much dirt on it. After much maneuvering that caused insistent twinges in his bad leg, he managed to upend the bucket onto the floor. The contents of it went crawling across the dance floor like an invading army. Satisfied, Brian began to swish the mop around. It seemed to work rather well. Unfortunately, that meant that he'd have to repeat the process with every section of the dance floor. He sighed again, and went back to mopping. It wasn't until later he realized that didn't make him angry.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry this was short, chickies... finals time approaches. Forgive me!


	7. balancing act

HOLY GOD! I'M UPDATING! My deepest apologies, folks, for the incredibly long absence. RL threw a whole bunch of shit at me, and it took me a long to get it together... but yay for graduating in April! This update will have to last you for a while... but hopefully you all can forgive me for making you wait so very freaking long! You'll all have to tell me what you think of Brian's twin brother...

DISCLAIMER: Just to repeat what I said before, more or less, I do not own tFatF or tFatF2; I merely own those that do not appear in the movie. You wanna sue me? You'll get nothing but dust bunnies, and that's assuming I don't clean house before you sue me.

"So, you're really gonna open the pub back up?"

"CHRIST ON A FUCKING CRUTCH, JAMESON BLOODY O'CONNOR! DON'T SNEAK UP ON ME LIKE THAT!"

"Is that any way to greet your step-brother?" Sarah glared at the unrepentantly amused twin of her step-brother Brian. Her hands went automatically to her hips as she subconsciously took on a stance her mother had often used.

"It **is** when he decides to give me a flipping HEART ATTACK! Jesu Criste, boy, when are you gonna learn to not piss me off first thing when you see me?"

"When you learn to hear me comin'." Sarah stared him down for a full thirty seconds before turning away and screaming in the direction of the dance floor area:

"BRIAN! YOUR UNGODLY ANNOYING TWIN IS BACK IN TOWN! Haul your ass in here and make him behave!" She turned back suddenly to face Brian's perfect replica, "Where were you, anyway?"

"Talkin' with me step-dad about his will. How're me kids?"

"Angelo, Sophia, and Vincent are just fine. So is the rest of the house—except your twin. Make him talk, if you can." Sarah turned away again and headed towards the bar area. Jameson followed her. Brian's distinctly lopsided footstep could be heard scraping across the floor, getting closer.

"I'll do me best, Sassy."

"And don't call me that crazy nickname!"

"But it annoys the hell out of you every time," Brian said sullenly from the doorway, "I think he should keep doing it, just to piss you off. But then again, you might try to kill him for it."

"And that's a bad idea...why, exactly?"

"Because he's my brother and my twin and I'd have to revenge his death by violent and extreme measures." Sarah beamed at Brian, not caring if he was belittling her at all, so long as he was finally talking. _You've got to start somewhere_, she thought dryly.

"Then let the games bloody begin!" Jameson called out gaily, a faint Irish accent evident.

"I see you haven't lost your Irish lilt," Brian commented, crossing the floor to sit down at the bar. Jameson deliberately kept his eyes off his twin's injured leg.

"Yeah, well, that's what happens when you spend a good ten years living there. You can't lose it again, even after coming back to the states."

"So I see."

Vince didn't get the chance to ask Dom about central AC after all. Mia called his cell and sent him on some errands. She sounded distracted. Vince found himself thinking about how to cheer her up while he listen to her rambling off a list of things they needed from the hardware store, the pharmacy, and the florist.

"Wait a second... why do I need to get balloons and shit from the florist?"

"Because, Vince, did you forget that Mrs. Velazquez's birthday party is tonight? The whole neighborhood is invited, of course, and we can't get her nothing. So I called up her niece who said to get her some balloons and a basket of flowers."

"Oh. Okay."

"Just tell the florist that they're for an 80-year old woman who likes bright colors, and that you need it to be between fifteen and twenty-five dollars. Go to the one on Craig Street, they're nice. It's beside the theatre." Vince sighed heavily before agreeing and disconnecting. He tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and cranked up the music. He cringed when he caught a whiff of apple scent, and grumbled under his breath. _I am never letting Mia pick the shampoo again_, he thought.

It was two o'clock in the afternoon when he pulled out of the pharmacy with Jesse's meds and Letty's "feminine hygiene products". Vince also congratulated himself on nabbing some plain, practical, _UNSCENTED_ Ivory soap and Suave shampoo on sale. _Now us guys don't have to run around smelling like another chic._ He'd heard Leon complaining loudly about the apple-scented shampoo from hell at dinner last night. Dom had kept his mouth shut, a million miles away. Letty had agreed with him, a tad nastier though. That was one of the things he loved about Letty—sure she was a chic, but she was too practical and self-assured to need make-up or perfume and shit like that. Vince changed the music in his car and switched lanes, heading toward his final errand: the dreaded florist shop.

Sarah called it quits early, around two o'clock, after she had left to use the restroom and came back into the bar area to see Brian and Jameson gone. There was no note, but Sarah assumed that Jameson was taking Brian home. Deciding that there was really reason she couldn't stop early, she closed up and hopped in her car. She maneuvered her truck expertly onto the highway, cranking up the volume on her music. Her cell rang out loud and clear above the noise.

"Hawkins, go."

"Hey, Sis, it's Moira."

"What can I do for you, my dear?"

"Turn down that music, for one! I can barely hear you!" Sarah turned it down and apologized.

"Can you stop at the florist shop for me? One of my friends' kid is in the hospital, and I'd like to take her some flowers, but I have to cook dinner and run Jack and Abigail to the doctor's office, and Mica's sleeping over a friend's house tonight."

"Calm down, kid, I'll grab 'em. You want anything in particular?"

"No, just grab something nice for around twenty dollars. I'll pay you back when you get home. Thanks, hon."

"No problem, Moira. Get going, I hear Jack wailing in the background."

"Okay, love you, bye."

"Love you, bye."

Sarah disconnected and slid the phone back into her purse with ease, never taking her eyes off the road. The music went back up and she slid into the exit lane. She narrowly avoided a collision with a Mazda turning onto Craig Street from Monroe Avenue, and slid into a parking spot. Grabbing her purse, she hopped out of her small truck, locked it up, and walked briskly inside. John, the clerk she knew from the class behind her in high school, was busy helping another customer. She nodded to him, and began looking around. She spotted some ready-made bouquets of carnations, daisies and zinnias, and checked the price. Sarah grabbed one and got in line behind John's other customer. She caught a whiff of apples as she stood behind him.

"I'll be with you in a second, Sarah," John said to her as he finished ringing up the other customer. The person in front of her turned around, and she smiled at the guy.

"Take your time," she told me, "I've got a while to get home." The guy smiled at her briefly. He had a nice smile. She smiled back at him. He finished paying and turned to let her by.

"Don't I know you from somewhere?" he asked. He had a sexy voice.

"I've heard that line a lot, but I kinda think I know you from somewhere too, so I won't hold it against you," she said, placing the bouquet on the counter.

"The chic from the supermarket the other day!"

"Oh yeah... you were behind that fat lady who only had milk," Sarah rolled her eyes, "Some people need to learn to use the self-checkout lane."

"No shit," Vince said to her, "I'm Vince."

"Sarah," she said, paying John, who winked at her, "And don't you look at me like that, John. I know what you're thinking."

"I didn't do anything!" John said, grinning. "When are you opening the pub back up?" he asked.

"Oh... in a few weeks. Maybe a month. The place took a lot of water damage," she said.

"You own a pub?" Vince asked.

"Yeah. It was formerly _Black_ or something like that," she said, waving her hand for emphasis, "But I'm changing the name to something more in the family. Like O'Dell or O'Connor or something."

"You know somebody named O'Connor?" Vince asked. His tone made Sarah squint her eyes a little at him.

"Yeah, it was my step-father's name. When he adopted me he let me keep my Mum's name, Hawkins."

"I've got to go, but I'll see you around," Vince said. He shook her hand and headed out. Sarah finished paying, and hung around for a few minutes to talk to John, who teased her mercilessly.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm sorry that this was a short update, after such a long absence, but I've got a tutorial to write and research to do. I hope you all like where this is going. Take care of yourselves!


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